Fighting Until The Very End
by FireFlyFlicker
Summary: Desirae is dying. She goes the races to forget, she wasn't planning on meeting the King of the Streets, Dom Torreto, she wasn't planning to be accepted, and she wasn't planning on leaving behind a family.
1. Prelude: Start of it All

**Fighting Until The Very End**

**Summary:** Desirae is dying. She goes the races to forget, she wasn't planning on meeting the King of the Streets, Dom Torreto, she wasn't planning to be accepted, and she wasn't planning on leaving behind a family. But when you are accepted by Dom the others fall in line, and Desirae gets a family for the first time, at the end of her short life.

**Author's Note:** So it's been a while hasn't it? You almost stopped looking for my updates didn't you? Well my muse sang her siren song into my ear once more and here I am listening. This is a Fast and Furious tribute, mostly because I love cars, and I **love** Vin Diesel... enough said. Anyway... not sure how well this one will turn out, because I know next to nothing about cars, so excuse my inaccuracies. So enough rambling, and in true FireFlyFlicker style... ON WITH THE STORY!

**Prelude: Start of it All**

-Ready-Set-Go-

Gripping the wheel of the 1969 Shelby Mustang tightly, I watched as the racer chaser makes her way slowly to the front of the cars, all humming and growling for the race to begin. Once upon a time, I came to the races to be spectator, and to get my adrenaline fix, on the sidelines, while my favorite racers did all the work. But now, now, I'm doing the stupidest thing I've ever done in all my twenty-one years. I'm sitting behind the wheel of a vintage high-performance vehicle, ready to compete in a ten second race that will either win me my opponents cars, which I don't need, or lose me my vintage baby, which also I don't need, but would like to keep simply out of vanity. There was also a lot of money on the line, six thousand dollars to be exact.

"Don't worry Elanor. I'm freaking out plenty for both of us." I say to car, rubbing my sweaty palms on my legs. I look up, and watch as the racer chaser, stands in front of us, and points to the Mazda RX-7, the driver revs the engine and she screams "READY?" She then points the Nissan Skyline next to me, and screams "SET?" I clench the wheel tightly between my hands and wait for my turn.

"Well if I'm going to die, might as well go down swinging." I say softly to Elanor and grip the steering wheel tighter. The skank looks at me, and raises her arms above her head. My engine revs loudly, the turbo squealing as it takes in more air.

"GO!" her arms drop and I shoot away from the starting line.

_ So... let's rewind a little shall we? My name is Desirae Morningstarr, and I am a twenty-one year old who will never see her twenty-second birthday._

_ You see, I have cancer, it's bad, nonoperational, and I will die in six months to a year. I guess you could say this is my way for flipping the Grimm Reaper the bird, because if I wasn't so sick, you could guarantee you I would __**not**__ be doing this._

_ When I was diagnosed I was alone, just like always, and I couldn't believe that it could happen to me. I know the statistics, I know the likelihood of getting cancer, and I know the percent of survivors who live through cancer, especially cancer as advanced as mine. It's a one in one hundred thousand chance by the way. I wasn't hoping to be the one out of one hundred thousand, I wasn't hoping for some miracle cure, I wasn't hoping for anything but some time to live the way I wanted to. That's why I'm putting it all on the line. If I've got to die I want to die in style, fighting and kicking the whole way. And when I die, I want to die peacefully with as little pain as possible, and as little of a fuss, which won't be hard since my mother is dead (from cancer) and my father walked out on us when I was 16._

_ I know what you're thinking, and I know that this is crazy, but I'm fighting for another month, another week, hell I settle for another day, and I know that it won't happen but when you are dying you do desperate things... the cliché goes "_Desperate times call for desperate measures"_ yeah, that's really true._

_ If you're reading this then I'm probably gone, and if I'm not dead, I'm probably withering in some hospital bed in pain, wishing I was dead. My auburn hair is probably gone from failed attempts at chemo-therapy, and my small, five feet two inch frame, has probably withered to next to nothing from the intense treatment that won't make a fucking dent in the cancer that destroys my body._

_ But you've got to know, you have to know that I tried, that I fought as long as I could. I'm not expecting to be remembered, but I would like someone, and single soul out of the six billion left on this planet, to put flowers on my grave and say: "Desirae, you were one crazy bitch and I'll miss you." That's all, one person to say that they missed me, that they had needed me, even if it was a short moment, and that I won't be forgotten to the sands of time._

_ Racing is my guilty pleasure, and it's my one passion, even though I don't drive very well, I love cars. I love the sound of them, and I love the feel of a high powered engine, and I love the drivers. My doctor's told me to take it easy, to not put my body through so much stress, but like I said if I'm going to flip the Grimm Reaper the bird, I'm not going to do it halfway._

_ So I'll tell you the story of my greatest triumph, and of the family I gained in my last moments alive. No one can ever say I died alone, but hell; I really don't want to die. So if anyone makes that comment I'll just have to figure out away to punch them in the face._

-00-00-00-

**Author's Note:** So it begins. I started this almost six months ago, and it is almost done. I'm not sure how long it will take me to update this, but I can assure you that I have at least 65% of the story written, unlike my other work that is currently all on a total hiatus. I don't wanna post anymore of this story until I know how it will be received so... to avoid the grey area of fanfiction, I'm only gonna post once I feel like I'm getting enough feedback. If you wanna say something about my story, feel free to comment here as a review or shoot me a P.M. I really don't care. Just don't be rude, that my friends, is poor form and I don't wanna have to deal with it.

It's late over here, and my eyes won't focus quite right. I think it's time for this wannabe author to go to bed. Night ya'll.

Yours,

Ells, aka FireFlyFlicker


	2. Chapter One: After it Begins

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, its been a while since my last post of this story. I must say that I have neglected Desirae and Dom... I haven't really written anything. I'm planning on seeing Fast Five soon so maybe I'll get some cool ideas from that. ANYWAY I just want to thank that people who posted reviews, favorited, and story alerted this. They made me smile each and everyone. Thanks so much! Love you guys, and now if true FlyFlyFlicker fashion... ON WITH THE CHAPTER!

**Chapter One: After It Begins**

-Ready-Set-Go-

Jumping over the finish line in first was amazing, and I stumbled out of the car, smiling and amazed all at once. "We won." I mumble, running my hand down the line of Elanor's hood as I make my way towards Hector, the race coordinator.

"Here you go baby girl, 6K just like I promised the winner, along with two beautiful babies to take home with you." he hands over the ownership papers, and I walk away from him and towards my opponents, standing with their respected teams.

"Hey, um... Brian right?" I say to the blond who owned the Skyline. He turned and looks slightly stunned to see me there. "Yeah, what's up?" he asked eying me suspiciously. I scuffed my converses' toe along the cement, a nervous habit.

"I don't need this." I say holding out the pink slip for the Skyline. His jaw drops open, and the others around him gasp out their astonishment. All except for one, who was eying me like a person would eye something dead on the side of the road. "No, you won, those are the rules." he says pushing the paper away. I huff, and plant my hands on my curvy hips. "Just take the damn paper O.K.? I don't want your car, and I really don't need it." I throw the paper at him, and turn to stalk away. A hand wraps around my elbow and spins me around. "Baby girl, you had better watch yourself." Brian says, seriousness filling his eyes.

"Don't call me that. I am not your baby girl, and I don't want your Skyline, I already have Elanor, so take the damn pink slip and get out of my face." I hiss, tucking the paper in his front jeans pocket and yanking out of his grip.

A deep booming voice speaks behind me. "Baby girl, you better watch yourself in those clothes, people will think you're a racer chaser." I spin in the toe of my high top converses and glare at the big, heavily muscled man leaning back against a Chevy SS. I look down and take an inventory of what I'm wearing, black high top Converses, blue and black striped tights at come up to my thighs, denim short shorts, and a loose long sleeved shirt in black with an open back to that ended just below my shoulder blades and a low cut neck line, so low that you can see the very top of my bright electric blue lace bra.

"Did you just call me a racer chaser?" I say, planting my hands on my hips and strutting up to him. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't move. "I think I just did." he says, his voice a deep rumble like thunder. I step up to him, and slap him across the cheek. Everyone around us falls silent, and I stand there fuming. "Call me a racer chaser one more time Torreto, and you can kiss having kids good-bye." I snap off, and spin away, my long, curly auburn hair flying around my head like a halo. I managed to make it to Elanor before someone grabs me. I'm spun violently, and push up onto the hood of the Mustang.

Dom is holding me, with wrists against the cooling metal, and I arch my back to get it way from the heat of the engine. "Watch who you're messing with, little one." he says, growling lowly at me. "I'm not scared of you Torreto." I hiss, pushing on his stomach with my knees. He doesn't move away, just presses forward and harder against my legs.

"Dom! Let her go!" a female voice says, and a small hands appear on his bicep, pulling gently, and Dom releases me slowly and lets himself be pulled away. I wait until he is safely away from me before I slid off the hood of my car, and winch as I rub my arms.

"Look, I'm sorry if I bruised your ego, but I don't appreciate being called a racer chaser, so don't do it again, and we won't have a problem." I say, crossing my arms over my chest and cocking my hips to the side. He nods, and I hold out my hand as a peace offering. His big fist curls around mine and he yanks me forward, leaning close he says quietly into my ear, "Don't talk to me like that again, and we really won't have a problem." His hand gripping my mine almost painfully and I have very fragile bones, so I winch and try to remove my hand from his grip.

"Desirae Angel Morningstarr!" a male voice screams and I manage to rip my hand away from Dom's grip. I spin and there walking steadily towards me is my best friend in the whole world. "KYLE MICHAEL JACKSON!" I scream, running to him, and catching my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. He stumbles under my weight, but manages to say up right. He spins in a circle, and I laugh delightfully.

"God, I missed you. Don't leave me ever again!" I say, dismounting, and standing on my tip toes to kiss his cheek. "I missed you too, babe. I'm back for the moment. I'll probably be heading back to New York soon. I have a show to attend, and write about of course." He says returning the kiss to my check.

He grips my face between his hands and looks at me. "Baby, how are you? Seriously, are you okay?" he asks quietly. I give him my patented blank stare and raise one eyebrow. "I've got cancer. How do you think I am?" I hiss at him, covering his hands with mine. He gives me a look. "Seriously, today is a good day. I'm not sick, and I'm not in pain. Today is great." I tell him softly. He nods and releases my face. "Sooo who was the sexy piece of man meat pinning you to your car... Elanor I mean?" He says raising his eyebrows. "Come on, I'll introduce you." I step away, and tug him towards Elanor. Dom's popped the hood and is snooping around.

"Hey, get out of there!" I hiss, reaching over and slapping his arm. He looks over at me a single chocolate eyebrow rising, and I slid between his body and my car, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him away. "Don't touch my car. She's temperamental, and she only lets me fiddle with her engine." I tell him, turning away, and straining to push the hood down.

"Anyway," I say turning back to see both Kyle eying me and Dom. Grreeaatt. "Torreto, this is my best gay friend ever, Kyle. Kyle this is Dom-" I start and Kyle just slides up to Dom, and holds out his hand. I roll my eyes. "Kyle... he bats for this team!" I call over, pointing at myself, mostly at my chest. Kyle looks crestfallen. I walk over and pat his cheek. "Get in the car, baby." I tell him.

"Hey Dom!" I call over after I open the door. "Give this to the asshole with the RX-7 for me?" I say holding out the second pink slip. He takes it, and eyes me for a second. "There's a party at my house in a couple of hours. Be there." He says. I smile and slid into the car.

"Since you asked so nicely. Oh, and that guy cheated." I say, starting the engine and peeling away. Kyle is laughing in the passenger seat and holding onto the over head _OH JESUS_ bar.

_Kyle is the most constant person in my life. He is the only reason I manage to get up out of bed in the morning. When we met, I was 16, and he was 19, mature, and being kicked out of his house for being who he was._

_ You see Kyle is gay, flamboyantly. His parents decided that they couldn't have a gay son, so they threw his stuff out in the yard while he was gone, changed the locks and disowned him. And that's how we met._

_ Karol and Jason (Kyle's mother and dickhead stepfather) knew my mom, and we were the only people he knew of in the state of Maryland to come to and beg for help. My parents were weary of him, but they saw a kid in trouble and let him in. I've never looked back._

_ A few years after that I moved to New York to go to school, and Kyle spent his life spending the trust fund his very wealthy grandfather left for him to use, his parents never got a drop of that money. I think Randy (he insisted I call him Randy not sir or Mr. Jackson), Kyle's grandfather, was trying to make up for Kyle's mom and stepfather's shiftiness. I personally was grateful for that. Who knows where Kyle would be now without that crotchety old man with even older old money._

_ Kyle met his calling as a journalist, he writes for an online magazine, the fashion column of course, and he loves it. But he moves around a lot, hence why I never see him, and when he's with me, I'm usually treated like glass. I love Kyle but he doesn't know that I'm terminal, and I don't plan on him finding out anytime soon. It's a double edged sword to have your best friend not know what exactly he has to prepare for. It sucks but I know Kyle would quit his job and force himself to be happy rushing me around to doctor appointments and such. Trust me, it's better that he doesn't know._

_-00-00-00-_

**Author's Note:** Hi, whew... I didn't realize how hard it was to write this one. I've been debating over this chapter for a while, but FINALLY I've got it the way I like it. Anyway, totally have to write the third chapter or else I'm going to go crazy. Unfortunately, I've got the ending down, and that is screwing me up! BUT I will have the next chapter up as soon as possible, I keep fighting with the chapters because I feel like there are inaccuracies that I just can't see. Anyone see anything I need to change please for the love of all that is holy tell me? Thanks guys!

Lots of Love,

Ells (aka FireFlyFlicker)


	3. Author's Note

Dear Loves,

This isn't an chapter, unfortunately. It's actually a plea for help.

I've got what I want to write in my head but I'm having a little trouble with the evil curse of writer's block.

So, I had to write as a plea for help. I realize that my characters aren't the same as they are depicted in the movies, but there is a reason why I decided to write in this canon, and it is a _fanfiction_ so I guess it's fair to take some liberties. I love this series of movies (but I haven't seen Fast Five yet... don't hate me... *cringes*) I guess I'm trying to justify my story. I don't like having to defend it but I will because that's just it, it's my story, and even though the characters aren't mine I think its fair to take some liberties with them, because if I didn't then it would just be another rehashing of the movies.

Desirae is indeed terminally ill, but she doesn't not have to be an in-patient because she is on a serious pill regiment. She does see her doctor regularly and while I do have some experience with this type of thing I am by no means a doctor, and I'm not honestly trying to offend anyone when I say that this is a _fanfiction_ so it's not going to be accurate. Also, not everyone with a terminal illness looks like "death warmed over" as someone pointed out, sometimes they are just normal looking people who you wouldn't know are sick. That's the point I'm trying to make. A person doesn't always look ill, and Desirae is one of those people. I guess it all depends on their method of treatment.

So guess where I'm going with this note is to ask for some help, a beta, or even just a plain old reader who thinks they can help me out. Either way I would appreciate it, and please be patient with my updates or lack there of, I've hit a wall, but I'm working through it as quickly as I can.

Thanks a million, and you can shoot me a PM if you think you can help me out.

Yours, FireFlyFlicker


	4. Author's Note Again

Hello My Lovelies,

This isn't a chapter update… and for that I'm sorry. This is actually another author's note. I've enlisted the help of the wonderful and totally awesome Meggura, she is currently helping me with my story. She is officially my beta, and hopefully with her help Fighting will be so much better.

In order to do that, I've been sending her the pervious chapters, and honestly they are turning out a hell of a lot better than the originals, and I have you, my reader's, to thank for that.

So just give me a few more days or a week tops, and I'll be reposting Fighting. I'm planning on deleting the original to avoid some confusion.

Thanks for sticking with me.

Yours,

Ells (aka FireFlyFlicker)


End file.
